


Tired or Just Lonely?

by RainyDaysWriter



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Furniture Store, Reader-Insert, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5741149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyDaysWriter/pseuds/RainyDaysWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times you had asked Sans to leave the store because every time he came in he went to sleep in one of the beds. Five times you had bit back the one question that was just on the tip of your tongue.<br/>It's the sixth time you've found him and you can't help it. He even wore the same outfit every day. What else were you supposed to think?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tired or Just Lonely?

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at a Reader-Insert. First time posting my work for the public eye to see. Anyway, it's a small fic that I did to try and get a feel for future ideas and stories I'd like to do. Hope it isn't too boring, please enjoy making friends with a smol skelly.

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous.” 

The object of your exasperation remained still, sprawled out across a particularly puffy comforter with one pillow hugged to their chest like a teddy bear. A wide smile stretched across their skull, and their rib cage rose and fell as slow as any sleeper’s. Which made absolutely no sense to you, because skeletons don’t have lungs, therefor what was the point of breathing? But you digressed. You chalked up the seemingly pointless human-like habit as a ruse, because the moment you had spoken you swore that cheeky grin twitched ever so slightly.

This was the sixth time this week you had found this skeleton monster snoozing in one of the display beds set out to showcase inviting plush blankets and pillows. You were growing rather concerned at this point. The first time it had happened, the skeleton had given a slurred apology upon being woken up and shuffled out of the store and you’d gone on with your day. But it had continued, with you finding the guy curled up in a different bed every time since. After the third encounter you wondered if he was playing an elaborate game of hide and seek with you, as it was you who ended up finding him and outing him. A game you did not want a part of.

You decided to take a different approach this time.

Standing at the side of the bed, you reached out and grabbed the sleeve of the skeleton’s blue hoodie, noting silently that he always wore the same outfit, too. Black gym shorts with white stripes, white socks with fuzzy slippers, and a worn zip-up hoodie with faux fur lining the hood. You gave the sleeve a gentle tug. 

“Hey, buddy.”

No response.

“Sir!”

A snort.

You narrowed your eyes. No doubt about it, the skeleton was toying with you now. You worked at this store, and you needed the paycheck, so you couldn’t very well do anything to rash just in case this guy’s plan was to accuse you of assault or something and get you fired. You never knew with people. Yet this guy had been amiable the previous encounters, usually leaving at your request, he’d even parted ways last time with a dumb joke.

“Knock knock,” he’d said in a drawl, one slipper-clad toe out the door.

You’d humored him. “Who’s there?”

“Noah.”

“Noah who?”

“Noah any good place to get a bite to eat, I’m wasting away here.” And he’d pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie to show off the bones of his arm. You had rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless and rattled off a few of your favorite joints.

You weren’t smiling now. You were glaring down at the dozing dork, trying to think of a way to get him off his bony butt (pelvis?) and on his way before you ended up getting busted by your boss. Swallowing your pride, you leaned down closer to his skull and muttered, “Knock knock.”

The skeleton stirred, and one of his closed eyelids (you had given up questioning how on earth a skeleton could blink) slid open an inch with a glowing pupil focused on you. “Who’s there?”

“Irish.” You were torn between being smug that you had gotten him to respond, and distraught that you had to lower yourself to knock knock jokes in order to do so.

“Irish who?” 

“Irish you’d get up,” you started, trying to keep a serious tone, “so I don’t have to call security to escort you out of the store.”

There was a long, awkward pause.

“Heh.” The skeleton sat up and shimmied to the edge of the bed at a snail’s pace. A lazy grin was settled across his face like a cat stretched out in the sun. Honestly, he reminded you of a cat in many ways. Qualities of a cat: dozes off wherever they please, easygoing attitude, takes their time, and regards you with mischievous looks that they know unsettle you. Yep, by your calculations, this skeleton dude was the embodiment of a feline.

“That was pretty bad,” he continued, making a show of “yawning” and reaching his arms up over his skull before sliding off the bed. He was pretty short, the top of his skull just reached the bottom of your chin. “I mean, it was so bad it was good. Didn’t know you had it in you, pal.”

You suppressed a scoff. “I was desperate.” You waved your hand in the direction of the entrance, expecting him to wander off like usual and you would return to dragging yourself through another day of mind-numbing work.

“Aren’t you humble?” He tucked his hands into his pockets but stayed where he was instead of shambling off like the last five times. 

This was your chance to figure out what his deal was, you realized. There were plenty of things you wanted to ask him, but you had to use tact. Your mouth moved quicker than your thoughts. “Are you homeless?” 

Cue mental face palm. Way to be considerate.

“What gives you that impression?” Thank God, he didn’t seem to take offense at all. He sounded amused by the thought, actually. 

You floundered for a second. Apart from recommending good places to grab lunch and asking him politely to leave, you had never really talked. You didn’t even know his name, leaving you at a disadvantage seeing as you wore a name tag as part of the uniform. “You sleep a lot,” was your brilliant answer.

“You’ve got me there,” he admitted with a shrug, “but I’m not sure sleeping is synonymous to being homeless.”

“Ugh, I know. I meant to say that you sleep a lot here. Like, there has to be something compelling you to cozy up in a furniture store for six days in a row. You wear the same thing every time, too. I think I deserve an explanation, seeing as I’m always the one to find you for some reason.”

“Alright, fair enough. See, the truth is I’m on break right now.” You nodded, okay, the guy had a job at least. “Usually, I head to New Grillby’s for lunch, ya know of it?” You dipped your head again. It had opened up a while back just across the road, you had swung by during a lunch break once out of curiosity. It was a cozy place, and had been packed with a mix of monsters and humans all just enjoying the jazzy tunes from an ancient-looking jukebox and basking in the sunny warmth of the atmosphere. 

“Good, it’s great, huh?” 

You hummed in confirmation and began smoothing the bunched up blanket of the bed, deciding you should at least tidy up while listening. “The fries were to die for.”

“How do you think I became a skeleton?” he quipped, raising his hands up like “What can you do?”

You resisted the urge to groan as you finished tucking the ends of the blanket back into the mattress. “Please just finish explaining.”

“Well, I was feelin’ pretty worn to the bone” –you almost threw the pillow you were straightening at his smug face- “and I happen to look across the street before going into Grillby’s. Right in the display window is the comfiest-looking bed, couch, and chair I’ve seen. So I popped in for a quick nap. With all the spare beds, I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question of whether you’re homeless or not.”

He waves a skeletal hand. “Nah. Just tired. And I like being comfortable, hence my impeccable fashion sense.”

“Then that brings me to my next question: why do you keep coming back? I mean, surely there are quieter places to nap where employees won’t be forced to wake you up lest they lose their jobs.” You’re not sure if you should start ushering him out yet, listening along the way, or stay put and risk being lectured for chatting to a non-customer. But truth be told, you were pretty curious about the skeleton. And, you wouldn’t dare admit it aloud, but you were enjoying speaking to someone new.  
Sure, you had a couple of good friends, but lately you’d been too caught up in bills and work to catch up with them. You’d been in a bubble of perpetual lonesomeness that you’d grown so accustomed to, you hadn’t realized you’d been aching to talk to someone. 

“Yeah, I thought of that the first couple o’ times you hunted me down to disturb my well-deserved dreams,” he teased. He snickered at your eye roll. “But two things keep pulling me back here. One” –he lifted a single digit- “is that these beds are comfy. I’ve had better naps here in the past five days than I have in months.” You wondered what factors contributed to that conclusion. “And two” –another digit joined the other- “it’s always you waking me up.”

A startled laugh escaped your lips. You weren’t sure what to make of that. Did he mean that in a friendly, funny, or flirty way? Was he really playing a game you weren’t aware of? Were you more angry or happy because of this? Oh God, you didn’t know. He’d thrown you off entirely, and the jerk knew it. He watched you, waiting for your response, the easy smile twitching. 

You swallowed. “Okay, I’ll bite, what’s so great about me kicking you out?”

He shifted on his slippered feet, tilting his head side to side as if debating something. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him, a tickling sensation blossomed in your stomach. His hesitation was unnerving, what on earth was he thinking? Finally, he gave a shrug and said, “Guess I was just a bit bonely and you seem like the sorta person who secretly thoroughly enjoys bad jokes.”

You blinked at him. Ignoring the pun, he seemed to be honest about whatever it was he was saying. That he was lonely. That you were a closet pun lover? You felt . . . flattered? In a strange, convoluted way, he was offering a skeletal hand in friendship. Or so your basic human mind assumed. And you had been lamenting about your own loneliness just minutes ago. 

“Heh.” He ducked his skull, like he was trying to disappear into the fluffed fur of his hoodie. “Forgeddaboudit. I’ll get outta your hair now, my break ended almost half an hour ago.” He started the walk of shame and you were snapped back into reality.

Speak, stupid! SPEAK. WORDS.

“Grillby’s!” You winced at the sudden outburst. God, your voice had even cracked at the end. Really, taking up sign language to avoid vocal blunders was becoming more and more tempting. 

The skeleton halted mid-step, eye sockets possibly wider a fraction as he waited for you to clarify.  
Jeez, did it get hotter all of a sudden? Your face sure thought so, but you were determined. You coughed into your fist to clear your throat. “I mean, would you like to grab a bite to eat at Grillby’s tomorrow? I’m off work, so it can be on your lunch break if you need. I’ll buy the fries.”

Hold your applause, folks, I just initiated a social outing myself, you thought proudly. But, oh man, you were overanalyzing your words already. Was that too forward, too eager, too weird? What if he hadn’t been asking you to hang out at all? What if you’d sounded too snobby? What if-

“Sure thing.” His facial expression softened and the smile seemed a lot more genuine. His cheekbones had taken on a faint blue hue. “I’ll buy the burgs,” he added with a wink. You beamed.

“Wait, you know my name, obviously,” you said and pinched the corner of your name tag. “But what’s yours? I make it a habit to know the names of lunch buddies.” 

“Sans.”

“Sans the skeleton?” It had a nice ring to it.

“Nah, Sans the comedic genius, if you please.” 

You sniffed. “I’ll stick with Sans.”

“And I’ll stick with you, too, buddy,” Sans said, even throwing in a finger gun with his wink.

If you rolled your eyes any harder, they were sure to get stuck in the back of your head. 

A pleasant feeling had settled into your chest as you escorted Sans to the front of the store for the sixth time that week. A dopey smile stayed on your face for the rest of your shift for the first time that week. When you reached into your pocket at the end of the day to retrieve your phone, you discovered a yellow post-it note stuck to the screen, and in messy but legible writing was a phone number, and underneath it read: “ketchup with you later – sans” and you laughed way too loudly for the first time in months.

**Author's Note:**

> I present my very first fic of any kind. If there was anything out of place, please don't hesitate to point it out! I want to share my writing for not only your entertainment, but to improve my writing skills as well. It's a win-win, yeah? So constructive criticism is encouraged. Thank you for reading, I hope Sans didn't seem too forced. I tried to go with sleepy, awkwardly-trying-to-make-friends skelly. So, yeah, platonic, but there was blushing so you can decide if it was just nervousness or something more~


End file.
